The Final Destination
by heart-of-caramel
Summary: One tends to value life when there's not much of it left. And after it does, there's one final destination to reach. One-shot, Percy/Annabeth.


**(Don't worry, this has nothing to do with the movie.)**

_**Dedicated to my grandfather, who passed away on the 30th of April, 2012 after a long, hard battle with pancreatic cancer.**_

_**Elysium is waiting for you.**_

* * *

**The Final Destination**

_(The end.)_

He's lying on a bed.

His bed. In his room. He coughs, once, twice, thrice. Sighs. He hates feeling so weak.

He looks around the room. The curtains have been drawn across the windows, but he knows that the sun is rising. Slowly. Steadily. Giving the old world some colour again.

The last sunrise he'll ever see.

"I know you're there," he says, in a frail voice which he really, really hates. What he _really _wants to do is shout out.

Nothing happens. Then a figure shimmers into existence beside him. A man. With dark skin. And wings. Wearing a white robe. An aura surrounds him, one so terrifying his first instinct is to run away.

If only he had the strength.

"Thanatos," he says. Remembers the time he'd once gone looking for death. Now Death has come looking for him.

The God nods his head. "You know why I'm here."

He does. He knows very well why. His time has finally come.

He looks around. He doesn't even have the strength to sit up, or else he would have gone outside one last time, breathed in the fresh air. Called his children, his grandchildren. Tell them how much he loves them.

But there's no time.

He stretches his pale, wrinkled arm to the right. To his bedside table with an old ballpoint pen and a photograph on it. Even this small gesture almost has him gasping for breath, but he grasps the photo with all his strength. Looks at it through his green eyes with a gaze so strong the photo should have been burnt to ashes, but his vision is weak. Very weak. All he can manage to see is a bit of blonde hair.

"Perseus," Thanatos says gently. "Are you ready?"

He looks at the photo again. Wishes he could see better. Curses himself, kisses the photo with dry, cracked lips. He looks at the closed window, sighs, closes his eyes.

"Yes," he says. "I'm ready."

* * *

It's all grey.

A cold world. A cold, grey world, one which he recalls quite well, although the last time he was here was for a completely different reason.

And he had company.

And he wasn't one of the dead.

And it happened more than fifty years ago.

Memories surge through him; he almost smiles when Charon sniffs him again, "just to be sure."

The boat ride, his audience with the Judges...it all goes by in a hopeless black-white-and-grey blur. All he knows is that he wants her by his side again, squeezing his hand and hugging him and kissing him and telling him that it's all going to be okay.

But she's not there.

The judges open a door for him and he walks through, tries to ignore the throbbing in his legs.

At first, there's a blinding white light, and then the darkness envelops him in a creepy, scary embrace; he feels his insides twisting, and then the floor gives way: he feels himself falling through thin air, arms extended, desperately clawing for something, anything to save him.

But there's nothing, so he closes his eyes and waits for the crash.

* * *

When he opens his eyes, he finds he's lying down on a bed of grass. Green grass. And it's soft, too, not the kind where your butt itches when you sit on it.

He sits up. The grass comes up to his shoulders. Peering over it, he can see only the lush grass; he's in this beautiful meadow with trees and flowers and a lake in the distance.

He stands. Almost falls down again.

Could it be...?

He looks behind him. Bends forwards. Bends backwards. Stretches his arm. Stretches his leg. Stands on one foot. Jumps.

He sinks down into the grass again, hands digging into the wonderfully moist soil.

No pain. No nothing.

He stands up again, kicks out at nothing in particular, just to be sure. And he walks.

And then he walks faster.

And then he jogs.

And then he runs.

And then he sprints, sprints for the first time in over _ten years_, and he lets out an elated whoop that suggests his lungs are back, too.

He finally feels _alive_ again.

* * *

There's this clear blue lake in front of him. But even after gazing at his reflection for, like, ever, he can't process what he's seeing.

He's _sixteen again_, the prime of his life, with his same old green eyes and black hair, and he's wearing his old orange T-shirt and camp necklace, and, sure enough, Riptide's back in his pocket.

Tears spring to his eyes, but they're happy tears, and then they splash into the water, muddling his reflection and-

What in Hades is _that_?

He looks up. There. Across the lake, there's a gateway. A gateway to a city, radiating happiness and warmth and family, and, if he squints, he can just see a rainbow over the gate.

There's a man waiting for him. He can't see his face, but he can tell that the man is waiting for him.

He needs to get across, he decides, but how?

There's a bridge a few miles away, but what's the point when you can-

He plunges into the water and swims all the way across, the water filling him with an energy and a happiness that he's missed so much.

He climbs out of the river, tired, completely dry but grinning like a complete fool.

The man is a few feet from him. Only his back can be seen.

He picks at his shirt. Shuffles, coughs. And then the man turns, and he nearly falls back into the water again.

It's Luke. Luke, with his sandy hair and blue eyes. Luke, whom he had trusted. Luke, who had tried to kill him. Multiple times. Luke, who'd given up his life to save him.

Luke grins at him, his scar the same as ever. He doesn't know why Luke is smiling, anyway. He can't be happy to see _him._

Or maybe it's just the look of complete shock on his face.

Luke holds out his hand. He shakes it.

Then he laughs, for no real reason. Luke laughs. And then they hug. Luke apologises. He apologizes. Neither of them know what for, but they forgive each other for everything that happened between them.

They both laugh again, and then Luke leads him through the gate.

* * *

It's pretty awesome, but it's not heaven.

Signs pop out at him everywhere: WELCOME TO PARADISE! ELYSIUM IS THE HOME OF ALL HEROES! WE CAN'T GIVE YOU HAPPINESS, BUT WE CAN GIVE YOU MARSHMALLOWS, WHICH IS KIND OF THE SAME THING!

Luke informs him that both his mother and Paul chose rebirth. He nods, sad, but understanding. Maybe he'll do it himself one day.

They walk on.

It's an architect's paradise; even he has to admit it's perfect. Lane after lane of perfect houses appear before him. There are parks, and lovely gardens full of little streams, and mountains in the distance.

Everywhere he goes, his friends seem to materialize.

He, after all, is the last to join them.

Leo and Beckendorf spill out of the forgery, give him huge hugs. Jason runs over with two dark-haired girls- Piper and Reyna, who give him huge hugs and kisses on the cheek. He blushes.

Silena is armed with a shopping bag. She hits him with it, lets out a teary laugh, and then squeezes him like a teddy bear.

Clarisse nods at him from behind her sunglasses. Chris gives him a high-five. Travis and Connor throw him a lock and key and invite him to break into the store.

Castor and Pollux shake his hand. Thank him. He thanks them right back.

Nico runs up to him and gives him a hug. He and Frank bump fists while Hazel sobs into his shoulder.

Grover yelps and tackles him to the ground, where they both burst into laughter. Rachel gives him a hug and playfully dabs his nose with red paint.

Laughter echoes around him in all corners. But he doesn't feel like joining in. There's something – or rather, some_one_ – missing.

He looks at Luke, questions him with a single look. _Is she here?_

Luke nods.

* * *

He looks everywhere.

The woods. The gardens. The park. The arcade. Every house, restaurant, shop and freaking _animal shelter_ Elysium has to offer.

He meets Luke outside the 'Lost and Found' office. Apparently, no one has found the missing piece of his heart yet.

He looks at Luke again. _Where is she?_

Luke looks amused, if anything. He arches an eyebrow. _Don't you know?_

He thinks. And thinks. And then remembers. Her last words.

His palm finds his forehead.

Gods, he's so _freaking_ stupid.

* * *

The sun is setting over the mountains as he makes his way over to the bridge. The same bridge he'd chosen not to cross when he first arrived.

It's a...majestic bridge, for sure. It's also completely _empty_.

His heart sinks. Maybe she's not there after all.

He blinks. Wait.

There. At the far end of the bridge. A female figure, although he could have sworn she wasn't there a second ago.

Of course. Her cap. He smiles.

He takes a step forward, realizes he doesn't want to waste any more time being away from her, and he calls out.

The figure on the other side doesn't react. He walks halfway over the bridge and tries again.

Even before she turns, he knows it's her.

He curses himself for not running up to her straightaway: her blonde hair is curling up at her shoulder the way it always does, she's wearing her old owl earrings, her dagger is strapped to her arm as always. It would definitely look menacing to others, but not to him.

More than ever now, he wants to touch her again. Make sure she's real.

Her stormy grey eyes move over his face.

Neither of them move. For a silent moment, the two of them look at each other after seven years of loneliness.

He can't see her very well in the dimming light, but her lips move, forming a single word: his name.

And then he takes a step forward, and then she does too, and then the tiny distance of a hundred feet is vanquished as they run forward and she flings herself into his waiting arms.

The momentum is enough to send them crashing down, which they do.

She ends up on top of him, her hair falling over her ears as she looks down at him. Her eyes are shining with tears, and he's pretty sure his are too.

She keeps saying his name, again and again, like she can't believe it's him.

He smiles, nods, teases her with his special nickname.

That proves to be too much for her, and she breaks down completely, burying her face in his chest and sobbing her heart out.

When she resurfaces, her eyes are red, but she smiles like he's never seen her smile before.

And then she leans down and kisses him.

The kiss speaks of happiness. It speaks of hope, and joy, and loss, and wonder, and it speaks of love.

And he kisses her back with all his heart, and now realizes just how much he's missed her.

They break apart as a loud horn sounds through the air. He caresses her hair as she touches each freckle on his nose.

She gets off him. The horn sounds again. She holds out her hand. _Come on, Seaweed Brain. Time for dinner._

He takes it.

And then walk, hand in hand, off into the sunset, just like old times.

Maybe Elysium is heaven after all.

_(The beginning.)_

* * *

**Hope you liked it, guys! Whipped this one up really quick, so forgive me for any mistakes.**

**Review?**_  
_

**Heart-Of-Caramel**


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